Afterglow Poem by George Murdock


Rating: 5.0

I fall into the green pools of your eyes
once again
like crimson tipped rose petals into a violent stream
rushed away from sensibility
holding this moment spent with you
for eternity
I raise my hand in a fist
To my mouth
biting knuckles to test reality
as if this time ending has never begun
and when I turn to you
you are still with me and we are
naked beneath sweating sheets
wearing bodies we’ve never seen
until now
me and you in incandescent truth
of years which have pinioned
and ground against us
like water against rocks in a stream
leaving us dull and pale
but for this while we pretend
the bed is a pyre which has consumed us
we are two embers fading in the darkness

Hugh Cobb 09 December 2005

Dear George: I love this poem! It captures the feeling so elegantly and precisely. Beautifully written! (10 from me.) Hugh

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John Kay 10 December 2005

George...the post 50 love poems that are not about unrequited love are the best, and this is a good one. Nice concluding line.

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Solomon Brook 16 December 2005

Nice piece there. I felt like it deserved a 10 from me. I appreciate the endearing feel I got from it. Thanks.

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fanniesson - 24 September 2006

stuff like this is what makes you a great poet you are worth reading

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Kristen Burbella 28 November 2009

This is amazing...what else is there to say?

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Rachel Butler 10 October 2009

The bed is a pyre which has consumed us Rachel Ann Butler

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tom mc quade 25 August 2009

aww George a younger turk could never handle it and elucidate with such finesse..experience carries the moment and brings it all to such artful conclusions...only a poet like yourself can immortalize their lovers :) tom

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Sathyanarayana M V S 14 November 2008

Tremendous imagery and beautiful flow of words. While reading the poem, throughout I could see an ardent lover singing a love song with a smile on his face; looking at his love.......beautiful indeed.

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Patti Masterman 29 October 2006

The imagery in this is electric; bodies we''ve never really seen before, bed as a pyre. I love it, like in this one, when the feeling is, something HAS us- we are not exactly the free agents every moment as described in old yellowed documents.

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